Five Times Abby and Gibbs Don't Spend Christmas
by dannica webb
Summary: ...Together, and One Time They Do. Gibbs's favorite forensic scientist is always the most cheerful person in the building over the holidays. The problem is that she never leaves the building. A story in six parts.
1. December 1999

**December 1999**

Abby Sciuto becomes NCIS's newest forensic scientist at the beginning of a snowy December in the year 1999. The first few weeks of work are a bit quiet; only a few cases, pretty open and shut. She's struck by the gruff behavior of one Special Agent Gibbs, recently returned from field work overseas; she's been warned about him, and she thinks sometimes he doesn't take her seriously as a scientist because of the way she looks, but then, she's used to that reaction. She doesn't appreciate his constant impatient demands all that much, though.

Two days before Christmas, they are handed the case from hell, and Abby barely gets any sleep until Boxing Day. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs is struck by the fact that she's the only person in the building involved in the case who doesn't blow up at him over being forced to work straight through Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. He's noticed – even made a casually annoyed remark – about her holiday cheer. She's decorated the lab and probably would have gone for the squadroom had Gibbs not shot her a trademark glare; she seems to be one of those people who genuinely _likes_ Christmas. But somehow he gets the feeling that Miss Sciuto doesn't have anywhere else to be but at NCIS, and this puzzles him.

Gibbs doesn't like puzzles, but before he can dwell on it, she finds the trail that leads them to the bad guy and it slips his mind. When she's yawning, waiting for the mass spectramajig to process a last piece of evidence on Christmas night (just to make sure the whole thing's tied up for court, which he already told her could be done after she got some sleep), he brings her the first of many Caf-Pow!s. She doesn't say thank you, just gives him a grateful, unassuming quirk of her lips.

Before she leaves that night, she stops by his desk to wish him a Merry Christmas, and Gibbs looks up at her, hiding his surprise. He returns the sentiment with rather lukewarm enthusiasm; he hasn't been a Christmas person for eight years, not since he lost his family, but no one knows this yet. They just assume he's a Scrooge and leave it at that. She lingers for a moment as if she wants to say something else, as if she just doesn't want to leave yet, but before he can stop her she seems to think the better of it and heads in the direction of the elevator.

It isn't until he comes in the next morning that he sees the tiny present sitting on the edge of his desk.


	2. December 2000

**December 2000**

The next year, it's a jurisdictional problem that keeps everybody working over the holiday week. Well, everyone but Director Mullen, who, by virtue of director's privilege, ends up spending a few days with his wife (whom everyone was surprised to find out even existed). This leaves Gibbs and his rather ragtag team to cope with not only interagency but also interstate disputes with Baltimore Homicide.

One of the Baltimore cops is down at the Navy Yard attempting to requisition evidence from the case late on Christmas Eve when he runs slam into the metaphorical brick wall known as Abby Sciuto. If there is one thing in which Abby believes without reserve, it's the chain of evidence rules – well, that and the fact that all evidence goes to the boss man until the boss man says otherwise (it's Abby's Rule Number 2). Gibbs catches the guy – DiNozzo, he remembers – trying to strongarm Abby for the murder weapon (a screwdriver), and nearly nails his ass to a wall.

Once DiNozzo's suitably chastened (and returned to the squadroom), Abby accepts a Caf-Pow! from Gibbs. She delivers the prints off the weapon, then as Gibbs turns to leave the lab, she lays a hand on his arm. It's the first time she's worked up the nerve to actually touch Gibbs; he knows she hugs everyone else with a vengeance, including some of his own unsuspecting team members. It's not that he doesn't like her, but Gibbs doesn't do physical contact, just like he doesn't do holidays and business lunches.

So he's shocked when she overcomes his intimidating stance, and pauses briefly, just long enough for her to say, "I think we should keep him."

"What?"

"DiNozzo. I think we should keep him." The slight insistence that creeps into her voice makes him even more curious; Abby has never actually asked him for anything before. He senses, in her own way, she might be almost as reserved a person as he is.

"He's not a puppy dog, Abby," Gibbs responds shortly as he turns again to leave the room.

She calls after him, "No, but he'd make a good agent."

When DiNozzo willingly works with NCIS to catch the bad guy and gets himself chewed out by Homicide for it, Gibbs gains a little faith in Abby's judgment. He's not sure offering probieship to the playboy ex-cop is the best idea, but he does it anyway; the team of desk jockeys Mullen's assigned him needs a strong field agent among them.

It's nearly 6am on Boxing Day by the time the bad guys have been booked and DiNozzo's been sent back to Baltimore to pack his things. Gibbs is just finishing up the report when she comes up to say Merry Christmas.

"I thought I told you to go home," he says lightly, chidingly.

She rolls her eyes. "Just doing some extra paperwork." She bounces lightly on her toes, peeking over to see what he's doing as if she doesn't want to leave just yet.

"More paperwork," he responds, shutting the file. "C'mon, I'll walk you out."

She doesn't respond, just links her arm in his. She's uncharacteristically silent the whole way down to her car. She just says good night as she turns the key into the lock, sounding subdued.

He's halfway home before he realizes she's slipped another little gift in his pocket.


	3. December 2003

AN: A reviewer brought to my attention that I refer to the 26th as Boxing Day, which is a public/service holiday in many countries - of which America isn't one (and most Americans don't say that). I am actually not Canadian, nor have I ever lived there (or anywhere else that celebrates Boxing Day) - I was born and raised in the southeastern US. For some reason I've just always had the habit of referring to the 26th as Boxing Day. So if you find this a little incongruous, please forgive me! (And for those who were wondering what Boxing Day is, there you have it.) Thank you everyone for the reviews, alerts, and favorites on this story. It means a lot :)

**December 2003**

The first time Gibbs really takes notice and begins to worry about Abby over the holidays isn't until a few years later. DiNozzo's taken the week off, McGee and Kate have gone to visit family, and cases are utterly slow, so most of the Navy Yard is empty from the 23rd until the 26th. Ducky is leaving the evening of the 23rd when he pulls Gibbs aside and asks him to send Abby home.

Gibbs heads down to the lab, where Abby is busy processing evidence. "What's all this for?" he says without preamble.

"Happy Almost Christmas Eve to you, too, Gibbs," she responds with a slight grin. "Just finishing up some stuff for Dawes's team."

He frowns. "Agent Dawes has already gone home. Everyone's gone home, Abbs."

"I know," she responds earnestly, moving energetically around from machine to computer to exam table, making notes. "I just want to make sure everything's nice and neat for court next week. You know how judges are about complicated cases around the holidays. And I _won't_ have the prosecution casting doubt on my science."

He pulls her into a half-hug, kissing the top of her head. He doesn't feel like fighting her, and she seems alright, he thinks. Maybe it _is_ just her usual attention to detail. "Go home after you finish this, Abby."

"Aye-aye, sir," she responds with a laugh, snapping off a salute.

A smile tugs at his lips as he walks out of the lab, and for once, he doesn't feel quite so melancholy about his date with his bourbon and his boat.

When he notices light issuing from the basement early on Boxing Day as he's walking into the building, though, he gets suspicious. Before he goes down to visit her, he checks the logs and heaves a sigh when he sees she's signed out only once – in the wee hours of Christmas morning.

He notices the silver of wrapping paper peeking out from under a file on his desk, and picks up her Caf-Pow! again before heading down to the lab. It's become a bit of a routine; neither of them acknowledge her gifts or that he doesn't return them, but the Boxing Day Caf-Pow! seems to say it all. He goes an extra two miles to find one without nutmeg.

"Morning, sunshine!" she says cheerfully, but under the smile her voice sounds the slightest bit strained. She grabs the Caf-Pow! and turns back to the computer, spinning in her chair.

He lays his hands on her shoulders, kneading them, feeling the knots of tension there. "I thought I told you to go home, Abby," he says into her hair.

"I did!" she protests.

"For two hours."

She shrugs, shoulders rising against his hands. "I went to church. But it _is _sort of like my second home – after the lab – and I promised Sister Rosita I wouldn't miss midnight mass again, not after last year – "

He breaks her off mid-babble, swiveling her chair around until she's facing him. She looks up with wide eyes. "Go home, Abby."

"It's a work day, Gibbs," she responds earnestly.

He sighs again, tugging a pigtail. "I'll call you if we get a case."

Once he gets her assurances that she really_ is_ leaving and calls after to make sure she signs out, he sits down heavily in her swivel chair, deep in thought.


	4. December 2005

**December 2005**

The Christmas after Kate dies is the hardest for Gibbs, so he's not surprised when he realizes it's probably the hardest for Abby, too. They both struggle with their own demons this time of year – his are named Kelly and Shannon, and he doesn't know hers, not really. But Kate's death is a pain they all share. It's the elephant in the room casting a shadow on even the happiest of the Christmas decorations in her lab.

The inconspicuous small box is sitting on his desk when he gets back from a meeting with Jenny on Christmas Eve. He tucks it in his pocket, going down to say goodnight, only to find Abby wrapped in Tony's arms, a Christmas movie playing softly in the background – _A Christmas Carol_, he realizes. Tony's sitting on the futon, and Abby is asleep against his chest. DiNozzo cottoned onto Abby's moods around the holidays pretty quickly, and Gibbs is not surprised to find the agent keeping her company. In fact, he's a little relieved.

Tony lifts Abby from his lap and lays her down onto the futon, covering her with a blanket, before leaving the sanctuary of the inner office to talk to Gibbs without waking her up. "Thought I'd keep her company, boss," he says by way of explanation, or maybe by way of asking permission.

"I'm glad you're here, Tony," Gibbs responds, looking beyond the other agent's shoulder to cast another long glance over the sleeping scientist. He turns to go without excuse; Tony knows this is a difficult time of year for Gibbs just as much as it is for Abby, and the team doesn't seem to find it too shocking that most Christmas – and New Years – Eves find him drunk in his basement. "Merry Christmas," he says from the door, just as Tony turns to go back into Abby's inner office.

"Merry Christmas, boss."


	5. December 2006

**December 2006**

The following Christmas is awkward for everyone. Gibbs has only been back from Mexico a couple of months, and things are still shaky with the team. Abby, at least, is as affectionate as ever, something Gibbs sometimes thinks he doesn't deserve. He thinks everyone is adjusting to his return alright, but he's still surprised to see her emerge from the lab on the 23rd. Their Christmas routine of dancing around one another, however odd and uncomfortable, is a sign of something resembling normalcy.

It's dark out and most of the building has emptied for the holidays; Gibbs himself is just about to turn his computer off when she materializes in front of his desk. Gibbs guesses after the revelations during his coma, it's no secret now why Christmas is not his favorite time of year, but he's still in the dark after seven years as to the reason for Abby's feelings about the season.

"Getting ready to leave?" she asks quietly, with a half-smile.

He nods and stands, noticing over her shoulder that Hollis has stepped off the elevator. He's giving up the normal ritual of isolation, at least for the night; he might still part with the Colonel on Christmas Eve and spend the evening with the Kelly. But he can't help but feel bad leaving Abby alone in the building for the next few days.

She smiles as he pulls on his jacket, twisting her hands together. "Have a good Christmas, Gibbs," she says, her eyes flickering away from him as she notices Colonel Mann walking up.

"You too, Abby." He reaches over to kiss her cheek and she tilts her face towards him, then she turns to walk away.

He's arm-in-arm with Hollis, heading for the elevator, and Abby is nearly to the stairwell when she stops and turns suddenly, pulling something shiny from her pocket. She bounds over to them. "I almost forgot," she says, handing him the tiny package, the ribbon slightly crumpled. She gives him a smile that he knows is only for him, then wishes Hollis a Merry Christmas. She's back down the stairwell before either of them has a chance to respond.


	6. December 2008

**Christmas 2008**

AN: Uncertainly Romantic!Gibbs was a bitch to write and my muse took her sweet time with this one – and decided to finally strike me for the last bit at four AM on a work night. So apologies for the delay, and I hope you enjoy it. This chapter ties in heavily with the events of Silent Night, so you probably won't understand the first part if you haven't seen that episode. Also, you can find cover art for this story here: http : / / i22 . photobucket . com / albums / b327 / carnivaldaughter / fivetimeschristmas . jpg

Two years later and Gibbs is back to spending Christmas alone again, but he thinks he is okay with that. The list of people he cares to be around at all is short, and most of them are at NCIS anyway; one person in particular. This year, he's determined to get to the bottom of a mystery.

Abby has gone all out with the lab and the squadroom; Vance allowed her to put up a tree, and Gibbs can't help but be warmed by her enthusiasm. He's not even annoyed by Abby and Ziva's zest for Vance's Toys for Tots program. Partly because he was able to opt out, but mostly because of the smile it brings to Abby's face.

But the arrival of Metro Homicide and the stress of the case overtake Gibbs's halfhearted Christmas cheer, and he loses himself in the details of the case, forgetting for a brief time to worry about Abby. He knows she's spent the night in her office again, and he can't help but be a little exasperated when she comes up from the office Christmas party, offering shopping as an excuse to why she can't go home yet. The look on her face reminds him of those first few Christmases after she came to NCIS – her standing uncertainly in front of his desk, looking like she needed a reason to stay.

When McGee comes in with Melissa Fox, though, he hugs her – one of the few times he can ever remember really initiating a hug – and is rewarded with a warm smile when he whispers, "Merry Christmas." He promises himself this year will be different; as soon as the case is over, he will make a point to get through to Abby.

He doesn't worry too much about her until Ziva mentions having to tell Abby to stay out of the situation with Quinn and his daughter. But then he thinks she might actually leave with Ducky when he tells her to; he's tied up in the investigation before he realizes she walked Ducky out and came back in. He goes home for a few hours to sleep, leaving McGee and Ziva to watch Quinn, and as soon as he comes back Christmas morning, they are out to reinvestigate the crime scene.

He knows Abby goes to church this year because McGee mentions it when he comes to tell Gibbs that Abby told Melissa Fox they found her father. Gibbs is pretty sure the agent thinks both he and Abby are dead after McGee tells Quinn. By the time Gibbs finishes chewing out McGee, Abby has retreated to the lab, and she comes out only to give him the bad news about the murder weapon.

He doesn't have time to go the extra few miles to find a place that sells Caf-Pow! without nutmeg, so he brings her the kind from the place down the street. When she kisses him under the mistletoe, a little sliver of hope blooms in his heart. He wants to smile, or maybe to kiss her back, but he's still upset over her presumption in calling Quinn's daughter, and they have an investigation to finish. He's half-joking when he teases her about redeeming herself from the mistake.

It's not until later that he realizes she snuck his gift into his pocket while she was kissing him, around the time McGee, newly recovered from his tasing, comes to tell Gibbs that Abby took him seriously.

"Boss, she thinks you're disappointed in her, and I think it might help if you – "

"Well, I am, McGee. She had no business bringing Quinn's daughter in," Gibbs cuts him off. "And you had no business letting her." The gruffness is mostly habit, and he regrets it a little bit once it's out of his mouth.

McGee scrubs a hand over his face. "I will take full responsibility for that, boss. You didn't hear her."

"Melissa?" Gibbs asks, looking up from his desk.

"No, Abby," McGee corrects, his voice quiet and a little sad. "She...well, she had this all planned out in her head, boss." He repeats Abby's words about the little girl who is never going to get to see her father again. "It didn't sound like she was only talking about Melissa Fox, boss. And Quinn's anger is punishment enough. If anyone should be blamed for it, it's me. I listened to her. I'm the one who told him his daughter was there."

Gibbs sighs. He should have known Abby would have taken his comment to heart. She can't stand it when someone is disappointed in her, especially when that someone is him. He stands and lays a hand on Tim's shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it."

He countermands his own advice later, feeling a twinge of guilt as he drives Quinn to his daughter's house at having put Abby and McGee through the ringer. When he leaves Melissa Fox's house after a brief phone conversation with his own father, he doesn't think twice before turning around and going back to the Navy Yard. MTAC is empty and so is the squadroom; the movie the team was watching must have ended. Gibbs is about to head down to the lab to check on Abby when he sees a folder on the edge of his desk, a note stuck to the top of it.

He reads the note, then takes a cursory glance over what's in the folder. Sitting down heavily in his desk chair, he scrubs a hand over his face. Leave it to McGee.

Gibbs has never dug into Abby's file before; as far as he knows, aside from the Mawher situation, most of the team has stayed out of Abby's personal life. But, like its agents, NCIS keeps extensive personnel files on its staff. Abby's career and educational history are more than enough in the way of interesting reading, but it's her family background McGee has highlighted.

Gibbs closes the file without reading the details, leaning his elbows on the desk. Most of the reason he's never looked at Abby's file is because he trusts her abilities, and beyond that, he understands her reticence to talk about the past. For all she's the most open, garrulous member of NCIS, there are some things that are difficult for Abby to talk about. And Gibbs would rather she'd made the choice to tell him. To tell them.

He places the file in his bottom desk drawer, locking it, and heads down to the lab.

***

Abby wakes up slowly to warmth and the faint scent of sawdust. After a brief, perplexed moment, she relaxes into the arm wrapped lazily over her waist, willing herself to go back to sleep. She doesn't turn in his arms to face him; once she realizes it's Gibbs and not Tony lying on the futon with her, she's reluctant to move, to break the spell.

If he wakes up, he'll pull away. There will be conversations, questions, insistences. Not this uncomplicated nearness, the kind that brings up a lump in her throat, which she swallows down.

She can pretend, for a little while, that it's a good dream – the kind without an end in sight.

The lack of windows in her lab makes it difficult to identify the time, but when Gibbs stretches behind her with a quiet groan, she knows it must be early – too early to have slept the whole night through decently. It's the kind of grumble he makes when called in at five a.m., still not sufficiently caffeinated.

"Morning, sunshine," she murmurs.

"Mmm," he responds noncommittally, and she feels the air shift behind her as he sits up. "I don't know how you sleep on this thing."

She pulls herself into a sitting position, tucking her knees under her chin and peering over at him. "Very carefully." A jaw-cracking yawn escapes her mouth as she struggles to keep her eyes open. "You didn't come to the movie," she says in a voice that might be accusing were it not so laced with drowsiness.

"I had something important to do," he says, his lips quirking bemusedly.

She raises one eyebrow. "More important than us?"

"I'll explain later." He leans over to kiss her forehead. "C'mon, I'm taking you home."

Abby lifts her head at that. "Don't wanna go home," she protests.

"Home with me."

***

He's at the stove making hot chocolate when she comes down the stairs, her hair damp from his shower and curling loosely to frame her face. Freshly scrubbed and still yawning, she looks about as unguarded as he thinks he's ever seen her.

"You didn't sleep." Her tone is accusing, but softened by a small half-smile. She knows him too well.

He points to the mug of coffee on the counter. "Don't need to sleep." She, on the other hand, had nodded off against his shoulder on the way home. He'd helped her up the stairs and, bypassing the unmade guest room, into his bed. He expects she didn't notice until she awoke. He wonders if she was already too far into slumber when they got home to remember him stroking her hair.

"You're making hot chocolate," she says in the same accusing tone, studying him as she hops up to sit next to him on the counter. She's wearing a t-shirt about three sizes too large that says Property of the U.S.M.C. and her own black shorts – he grabbed her overnight bag on the way out of the lab the night before. Her bare legs swing lightly against the lower cabinets.

He turns his attention back to the stove but he can still feel her eyes on his face. "You're just the mistress of the obvious today."

He looks up when she presses her palm to his forehead, then to his cheeks, obviously containing a giggle. "It's Christmas and you're making me hot chocolate. Are you sure you're feeling okay, Gibbs?"

He starts to correct her, to say that it's technically not Christmas anymore – they missed Christmas day because of the case, after all – but stops himself. Abby deserves to celebrate a real Christmas. So he settles for deflection. "Well, I'll be better once I've had my third cup of coffee."

"Oh!" She reaches over to grab his mug from her other side and starts to hand it to him, but stops. "On second thought...if this is what an only partially caffeinated Gibbs is like...."

He taps her nose in amusement. "Don't push it, Abbs."

He sips the coffee and sets it back down once she's relinquished his cup, then reaches past her to open the cabinet and grab a mug for her chocolate. Somewhere between closing the cabinet door and turning back to the stove he loses track of things – maybe it's the scent of his soap on her skin, or the sensation of warmth he feels being in such close quarters, but somehow his lips have found hers, the stove forgotten.

She yields to his kiss, which is gentle and undemanding, her hands reaching up to cup his face. He's not sure how long they stay like this, but he's brought back down to earth when she pulls back slightly to rest her forehead against his, her eyes drifting open. "You're burning the chocolate, Gibbs," she whispers, her fingertips drifting down his arms.

He doesn't know what to say and he doesn't want to break the spell, so he doesn't say anything as he pulls away slightly to pour the milky concoction into an extra-large mug. She accepts it gratefully, reaching with her free hand and interlacing her fingers with his as she takes a sip.

"_This_ is heaven," she says with an exaggerated sigh, closing her eyes for a moment as she savors the first sip. "Really. You should reconsider your choice in career."

Suddenly the awkwardness he expected would ensue after his hasty shattering of rule 12 doesn't seem to loom so heavily in the atmosphere anymore. "You don't think I make a good NCIS agent, Abbs?" he retorts with a smirk as she drops down from the counter.

"No, no, you're quite good at that, too, _Very_ Special Agent Gibbs," she responds, keeping her grip on his hand. He follows her towards the living room. "I just mean if you ever get bored, you could always be a confectionary – "

"Stop!" They're almost within view of the Christmas tree when he remembers quickly enough to pull her up short, nearly causing them both to spill their drinks.

She looks up at him, puzzled. "What is it?"

"Close your eyes."

He must have a good poker face; he manages not to crack a smile, despite the anticipation in his stomach, and her look remains puzzled. But she trusts him; she just shrugs slightly and shuts her eyes, allowing him to lead her into the room.

He's about to speak again when the anticipation turns to nervousness; maybe it was a stupid idea. He hasn't even bought a Christmas tree in seventeen years, and this isn't exactly what one would call a Hallmark setting. Stupid, sodding sentimentality. This is why he stays away from romantic gestures; he prefers the steadier footing of being a bastard. It's comfortable.

"Gibbs..." Abby squeezes his hand, amusement in her voice. Her eyes are still closed. "I can hear the wheels turning in your head."

And overthinking is what's screwed up the last...several relationships. We won't get into specific numbers. He takes a deep breath. "Okay, open your eyes."

The wonder on her face when she sees the Christmas tree brings on an unexpected wave of emotion. He's seen Abby happy many times; Abby is usually the happiest person at NCIS. But he doesn't think he's ever seen quite this look of joy in her eyes before. He sets down both of their cups as she walks over to the sparse little tree, tracing the ten small, handmade ornaments – one for each year she has been at NCIS. They're the only decoration he's put on the tree, but it seems fitting; they were gifts from her and she is the one really beautiful thing in his life.

He's nearly bowled over when she suddenly turns around and hugs him fiercely. "Gibbs! You got me a Charlie Brown Christmas tree!" She's stating the obvious again.

"I'm guessing that means you like it." His voice is quiet but her smile is infectious.

"It's the best Christmas present _ever_!" She flops down on the couch and tugs him down with her, curling up against him and tucking her head under his chin.

He clears his throat. Oh, God. If Tobias ever hears that he's not only bought a Christmas tree but a Christmas gift as well, he'll never live it down. Thankfully, he's already gotten over the embarrassment of telling Ducky, whose input was required for the whole operation. "Well, that's not actually the present...exactly."

She pulls back to look up at him, expectant. "Oh?" Then she peeks around the room as if she's maybe missed something.

"It's at Ducky's. He's having the team over for belated Christmas dinner this afternoon." Her eyes are sparkling when they meet his again. "And I was wondering if you'd consider accompanying me."

Instead of answering, she presses her lips lightly to his again, before tucking her head under his chin once more. "I'd like nothing better."

They're silent for awhile and he can tell she's gazing at the fireplace. He'd started a fire before she awoke. He tells himself he's not fishing for answers when he interrupts the companionable silence. "So does this mean you'll spend Christmas with me from now on?" He doesn't mean it to come out sounding like such an expectation of commitment; he adds quickly, "Outside of the lab."

She sighs and shifts against his chest. He knows she's not oblivious to the speculation that goes on about her habits around the holidays.

"It's not some big secret," she says finally.

He doesn't respond, just waits for her to elaborate. She's always told him things in her own time.

"My dad wasn't born deaf. He was medically discharged because of hearing damage from artillery fire in Vietnam." Her hand finds his again and he rubs a thumb over her knuckles as she talks. "He married Gloria and I think they were happy once, but when they had Sean, he just...it was a lot of things, I think. Worrying about the trouble Sean would go through as a Deaf child, knowing the trouble Gloria went through. Money. He and Gloria fought sometimes. One Christmas when I was fifteen, I just woke up and he was gone. Gloria tried to make it a good Christmas for Sean, for both of us, but it wasn't the same after that." She pulls back to look up at him again. "But you already know that."

"I've never looked at your file, Abbs. McGee just pulled it yesterday because he was worried about you. I put it away."

"I don't blame Timmy for being curious," she shrugs, pulling her knees up to her chest and leaning against the back of the couch, her head once again resting on his shoulder. "It's not like it's a big deal," she repeats as if that will make it true.

"It is a big deal, Abbs." He wants to tell her his heart is breaking for the girl who misses her father, and he doesn't mean Melissa Fox.

She brushes off his declaration with another self-conscious shrug, a deflection. "I think Gloria was somehow waiting for us to be okay on our own. She died a year after Sean left for college. The doctors say aneurysm; I think it was heartbreak. She wasn't the same after dad left." A few pool at the corner of her eyes and she reaches up to brush them away impatiently.

"Christmas was never the same after that," she says again. "Sean has a family now, and with work and having to travel to New Orleans, it just doesn't make sense to go through the motions." She reaches for his hand again. "My apartment is too empty and it's not much fun to decorate there. Besides," she continues, her lips turning up into a half-smile, "I like spending Christmas in the lab. It's my favorite place, and I have you guys when there's a case, and my babies and Bert when there isn't."

He kisses her forehead, pulling her into his lap and resting his cheek on her hair. She lets out a contented sigh as she folds herself into his arms, and they stay like that for awhile longer. He would say that he knows what it's like to be alone, that he loves her, that she deserves to have someone tell her that she matters every Christmas. That he'll never leave her. But one of the things he loves about Abby is that he doesn't have to say anything; she just understands.

So he's quiet for awhile, until the growl of her stomach reminds him of the time. "Ducky says you can't spend Christmas entirely in the lab anymore. He's demanding a standing Christmas dinner date." She looks up with an impish smile and he impulsively kisses her nose. "And unless you get dressed now, we're going to be late."

She hops off of his lap and is up the stairs before he has a chance to say anything else. He glances at the tree once more, at each of the different ornaments she's made him over the years. They've been – she's been – a bright spot even when Christmas has been riddled with the darkest memories.

During Thanksgiving at Ducky's, when she'd poked and prodded him to say what he was thankful for ("It's a _tradition_, Gibbs! You can't break with tradition!"), he'd blown her off. He makes a mental note to tell her before the day is over that he's thankful for this, for her.

It's the best Christmas present he's gotten in seventeen years.


End file.
